Apathy
by ArhenaRuetto
Summary: "Apathy is death.  Worse than death.  For even a rotting corpse feeds the beasts and insects."  LSF.  May be a one-shot.  May not be.


**( I had meant for this to be a one-shot. But I'm ... leaning toward adding onto it. We'll see how it goes. )**

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><p>She hadn't expected a sudden bout of vertigo or exhaustion. She forced her feelings aside (and there had been so many feelings), the effort making her knees shake. Doran stumbled away from the sarcophagus and felt around the walls, nearly blind. The color began to drain from her face and she acutely felt every drop of blood make its hasty retreat, the skin of her cheeks going cold. With some effort, the hidden door pulled away from the wall and allowed her access out of the tomb. The air within the cave, no less stale or acrid, did little to relieve her senses, or even keep her from feeling suffocated. Could Kreia not sense her distress? Had Atton and Visas not remained at the entrance to the chamber, dutifully awaiting her return from its depths? Did they care?<p>

Of course they cared. Apathy was death, worse than death. They admitted so, all of them had. But no, that hadn't been them. That had been a figment of her imagination, a hallucination brought on by the strong lingering forces in the tomb. She hadn't slain her allies. She hadn't. Only phantoms that had looked like them. So much like them.

The shriek of a shyrack made her heart jump, adrenaline rushing through her veins as she forced herself to pick up the pace as she navigated the cave, once again all but blind in the dimness. She felt choked, strained and every minute that continued only made it worse. The walls were wet and slimy against her hands, providing no comfort or indication that she was going the right way. She could hardly remember how they had come, where they had entered from. She saw no growing light through the seemingly endless labyrinth of tunnels. She had passed the bridge, hadn't she? Of course she had, nearly tripped over the bodies of the Sith soldiers that had dared dog her footsteps, that had challenged her determination and will to survive.

Her will to survive. This was probably secondary only to her desire to see her companions alive and well. They had to be safe, they had to be unharmed. She had gone into the tomb alone, they had not been able to accompany her, for reasons unknown. The power of the Force within the hallowed halls had been too much for them, perhaps. It came as a surprise to her, especially Visas' inability to proceed any further than the strange crackles of Dark Side energy. It did not matter, however. Doran had assumed she could continue on her own. The tomb could not be all that expansive. Dangerous, perhaps, but that was nothing new. She had stemmed the whispers of concern that laced itself around her mind, felt calm and at peace. She had taken extra precautions before stepping off the Ebon Hawke to explore the dead Sith world. It had not been enough, evidently. All of her caution, all of the walls she had meticulously built came crashing down as she descended further into the tomb, not thinking for a single moment to try and turn back.

Another shriek and her heart began to race a second time. Still she failed to find her bearings in her only mildly panicked state. Her ears rang, eyes swimming in their sockets. She closed them and endeavored to calm herself, steady her heart. As much as she hesitated to do so, she was a Jedi, with techniques at hand that should put her mind at ease. Her heart slowed and her mind cleared, only somewhat. It was not enough to take away the exhaustion and lingering dizziness that she continued to fight off, taking more determined steps through the cave, lightsabers in hand. With a hiss, the cyan blade in her right hand came to life, giving her some light to work with as she opened her eyes to the dimness, her vision no longer so blurred.

As she advanced, she began to feel more assured of her decision, her direction. She must be going the right way, she could feel the air lightening, not quite so heavy with the decay of time. Yet the shyrack shrieks were growing closer, louder. She froze a moment, holding still in the light of her saber. Fear was not something she could afford to feel, and so she pressed on. With the shrieks came the growing sound of wings flapping, further along the dark tunnels. Rounding a corner, she saw light, blocked partially by the silhouettes of winged creatures, the very ones she'd been hearing the whole time. There were two, from what she could make out. The large, leathery beasts made no sign of acknowledging her, their blind, eyeless faces taking no notice of the light emanating from her saber. Quietly dousing the weapon, Doran again was plunged into darkness, the only visible thing the vague, often blocked light coming from the end of the tunnel. She stepped closer.

_You are to be commended for making it this far._

The shyrack still hadn't noticed her, but her mind would not stay focused. Her thoughts wandered and skipped along a trail she could not make straight or narrow. She lost her footing and fell, gloved hands scraping against the wall for support, making a noticeable, echoing noise throughout the cave.

_Your friends are all arrayed against me._

For a moment, all was silence as the echo died. Painful silence.

_Will you stand for this?_

Then came the shrieking.

_Apathy is death. Worse than death. For even a rotting corpse feeds the beasts and insects._

They were upon her just as she scrambled to her feet, knocking her again, pushing her toward the cave wall, their strong wings and talons reaching out to tear at her. A talon raked its way down her cheek, warming the cold skin with seeping blood. She was vaguely aware of other scratches as she fought against them, first drawing in the Force around her and sending it out at the beasts to push them back. Lightsabers were ignited and soon one of the shyrack was missing a wing, writhing on the ground. The other, larger shyrack seemed to redouble its efforts, scuffing Doran over the head with a large wing and shoving her forward, toward the entrance to the cave. She rolled with the shove, tucking her chin into her chest and curling, tumbling forward into a kneel. There was a brief moment's wait before turned sharply, lightsabers forward to catch the shyrack in the torso. It fell, giving strange cries of pain before dying swiftly.

Adrenaline faded and again Doran stumbled down the tunnel, coming to a stop at the mouth of the cave, resting against it a moment as she took a few lungfuls of fresher air. She slid to her knees, only just barely aware of Atton's call. She raised her head to see him quickly approaching, before slumping to the ground, the hot breeze blowing her hair. Everything went dark as she felt herself hefted into strong arms, held tight, enveloped in a warm, safe feeling that seemed to lull her to sleep faster than any meditation technique. A hand brushed hair away from her forehead before she was enveloped in oblivion, fast asleep.

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><p>"<em>She'll be just fine. Undue stress has caused most of the damage."<em>

"_Undue stress?"_

"_And exhaustion, yes. She just needs to rest."_

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><p>The voices were gone when she awoke. She stirred, making a quiet rustle with the sheets that had been strewn over her as she lay on the med bay cot. She made to sit up, a sharp ache instantly engulfing her abdomen, forcing a short groan from her lips. Hands were at her back and shoulder, aiding her without a word. A second pillow was placed at her back for support. As her eyes focused, she could see Mical's optimistic smile, a strand of blonde hair falling from the rest of his well-groomed mane. His voice was gentle, patient.<p>

"I am glad to see you awake. You have slept very deeply the last few days." He withdrew from her side a moment to reach for his data-pad, gloved fingers tapping the screen a few times as he continued speaking, his voice taking on a bit more of an absent tone.

"Try not to tax yourself too excessively, your muscles are weary from the exertion of the last several weeks. How you've managed to go on and on for that long, I'll never understand." He glanced up from the data-pad, smiling. He removed a syringe from a drawer and took up a small glass bottle, tipping it upside-down and pricking the cap with the needle, drawing out a bit of its clear contents. Withdrawing the needle and flicking the syringe, he approached her again, gently taking her arm and sticking a vein in her wrist, his voice calm and ever reassuring.

"This is only a muscle relaxer, it will take some of the ache away so you aren't completely immobile. It should take effect in a matter of moments." Removing the needle from her wrist and setting the syringe aside, he moved to the doorway, quite accustomed to her silence.

"You must be starved, I'll find you something easy to consume."

With that, he was gone.

Left to her thoughts, Doran couldn't help but be irritated that she had spent so much time unconscious. There were important matters left unattended. Too many things she had not yet done. They still needed to find Master Kavar. Perhaps they had been on their way to Onderon while she slept, yet knowing Mical's predictability, he had likely insisted they not travel in any timely fashion, all the more to keep her from jumping right back into business again. She raised a hand to her face and found her arms just as sore as her abdomen, the ache traveling so far as her shoulders and lower back. Had she really been exerting herself so much that she felt this exhausted? Or was she just far more out-of-shape than she had thought?

"Mical said you were up. Just wanted to check on you." Mira's smooth alto voice came from the doorway. Doran hadn't even noticed her approach. Her voice was raspy as she responded, giving a slight nod (with plenty protest from her neck. Wasn't that relaxer supposed to be kicking in?).

"I appreciate it." Mira gave a small grin and stepped into the room, crouching slightly next to the cot.

"You've been out of it for four days, you know. Should've seen Atton, all worried." Mira's grin widened as Doran quirked an eyebrow. "Oh yeah, he was pretending so hard not to be concerned. You should've seen him bring you on board. His face was just ... intense. He wasn't going to let anything touch you. Nobody got in his way either, nobody said anything. He set you down so gently, like he was afraid you'd break into pieces if he-"

Footsteps came from the hallway and Mira lowered her voice.

"Just saying. You should thank him, when you get the chance. Mical too. They actually _got along_ making sure you were safe."

A smile touched Doran's face, as thin and weary as it was. Mira stood to her full height and shoved her hands into her pockets, nodding amiably at Mical as he entered with a tray of food. Mira winked at Doran and slipped out of the room. Setting the tray before the exile, Mical made to leave again, giving her an encouraging smile.

"I'll be within earshot, let me know if you require anything else."


End file.
